Raptor Silhouettes: the solutions

I’ve recently detected a growing unease among some birding factions on the Internet. Some have written to forums pleading for help, while others have gone straight to the point and have e-mailed me asking for the solution to the raptor silhouette competion available on this page at the BirdingInSpain.com main site.

I’m about to reveal the answers.

So if you want to have a go yourself without cheating follow the link and read no further…

If, however, you are stumped, and there’s no harm in admitting it because it was a difficult test and as far as I recall no-one has got 20 out of the 22, read on…

1. Honey Buzzard

2. Black-winged Kite

3. Red Kite

4. Osprey

5. Short-toed Eagle

6. Goshawk

7. Booted Eagle

8. Eleonora’s Falcon

9. Common Buzzard

10. Peregrine

11. Black Kite

12. Hen Harrier

13. Bonelli’s Eagle

14. Montagu’s Harrier

15. Golden Eagle

16. Egyptian Vulture

17. Marsh Harrier

18. Hobby

19. Sparrowhawk

20. Common Kestrel

21. Griffon Vulture

22. Lammergeier

Most difficulties were caused by numbers 2, 7, 8 and 12. Of course, true to the BirdingInSpain theme they are all raptors that can be seen in northeast Spain.

Did you enjoy it? Was it worth my time? Would someone like another more difficult/easier one?

I await your comments.

Autumn’s ripples

A Whitethroat in an almond tree, a Willow Warbler calling from deep in the thicket, a Booted Eagle spiralling over the town of Balaguer. In the last few days the signs have been there for those who can read them: these migratory birds are flying south because they can feel the ripples of autumn, and the sight of them in my part of southern Europe conveys the message to me and people like myself.

I have been hearing Bee-eaters calls from my flat since early July, but now their calls seem irregular and impatient. Last evening a party of 12 Honey Buzzards flew low over our terrace with their characteristic, almost laboured, flapping flight. My wife and I interrupted our game of ping pong to watch them pass.

Dotterel have appeared on their passage through the drylands of Lleida. I’m sure they do so every year, although some years no local birder gets out and looks for them.

I’m now approaching my 20th autumn in this Mediterranean land. Time enough for me to have studied the local bird migration and to know what to expect. I could say the same about the spring migration. I tell myself that these birds will return next spring, although the uncertainties of our world make me hope more than expect.

Rutland Water memoirs

Just a shortie with a couple of images which are probably of no interest to anyone at all. I won’t give up trying though!

Birding In Spain at the British Birdwatching Fair

Firstly, one of the Catalonia Tourism stand in marquee 4. I got the general feeling that there was a fair bit of interest in the region, especially among visitors who knew where Barcelona was. Mind you I had to point out that neither Murcia nor Tarifa were on the map!

And now for the photo that you never knew existed! Me signing a copy of my book for David Attenborough? No, actually it’s the other way round. I did, however, present him with a copy of “Flying over the Pyrenees, standing on the plains”, which hopefully his personal secretary will enjoy.

David Attenborough at the Bird Fair

“Is that the last one?”

Bustling British Birdwatching Fair

This year’s Bird Fair at Rutland Water seems to be set to break the previous records of attendance and funds raised for conservation. BirdingInSpain.com were there for the whole 3 days, invited to give a talk about the birding opportunities in the province of Lleida and occasionally helping out at the stand of the Catalonia Tourist Board.

BBF at Rutland Water 2008

Everything there is extremely well organised, and just as well. Friday morning saw a constant flood of public pouring through the entrance gates and swamping stands and events. Luckily the rain held off, the weather was warm and pleasant, as even for the birdfair organisation two floods would have been too much to cope with at the same time!

The Birdfair proved to be yet another great occasion for meeting public and bird traders alike, and even rubbing shoulders with the odd celebrity or two (won’t say who just yet). One warning though – get the wallet ready, as it is always so difficult to resist making a purchase or two!

New digiscoping book by Spanish authors

Recently a brand new digiscoping book fell into my hands courtesy of Xavier Esteller of Swarovski Optik in Barcelona. It was written by various Spanish authors, all experts in this particular field of bird photography.

Digiscoping: una mirada de cerca

Its 216 pages are crammed with photos of birds, digiscoping instruments, techniques and computer screen images to take the reader through the whole process of digiscoping birds and other wildlife, through choosing the most suitable equipment, field technique, etc. to retouching and image optimization on the computer.

The English version was recently translated by John Muddeman, with my own humble contribution of two chapters also in there somehwere. Its hardback, glossy, in full colour and complete. An ideal buy for anyone embarked on the long and wondrous voyage of bird photography, and especially for those with an interest in digiscoping.

Counting down before the Bird Fair

Friday the 15th August is the starting date for this year’s British Bird Fair at Rutland Water. An event which every birder should attend at least once. I’ll be there again this year, representing BirdingInSpain.com on the Catalan Tourist Board stand. Take a look, not least of all to take part in the brain-teasing raptor silhouette challenge.

Preparations for such a world-shaking event must be made, but nevertheless, life goes on. Which meant that on Monday and Tuesday I was out in the field, guiding an American couple, firstly around Lleida and then down at the Ebro Delta. Not the best time of the year for a short birding trip, you may say. Indeed not. With daytime temperatures above 35ºC and the absence or scarcity of some earlier migrants, August is not the time of year that most birders choose for their visit to Spain.

However, Elliot Tramer and his patient companion, Chris, are an agreeable couple, and Elliot has a mission: to see 1,000 bird species in the space of a year. To keep in line with that target Elliot decided that he had to visit a European country, and that Spain was probably his best bet.

And how did he get on? Well, after a week in the Gredos mountains he came to me with 100 new species already on his year list. In the two days we were together I believe he added another 53.

I know that Elliot satisfied his numerical aims, although I don’t know if there was any birding moment that was a particular highlight for him. For me it was satisfaction enough that we were actually seeing the species that I knew should be there, in spite of the burden placed upon us by the “August factor”.  Personally, though, I was particularly pleased about the Pin-tailed Sandgrouse and the Red-necked Nightjar!

And to use his own words “Seeing a Red-necked Nightjar like that means that we end with a bang and not a fizzle”. Well spoken, Elliot, bon voyage and good luck in your bird quest!

The afternoon after the day after

It was 5 o’clock in the afternoon and the car’s thermometer marked a more-than-warm 33ºC. What the heck was I doing out on the drylands of Lleida at this time of day? Magpies perched motionless and gasping under fig leaves, there were no bird calls or birdsong to guide me to my next subject, and I was out birding! Was that really a wise move?

Two days earlier I had been out and about in my plucky red Suzuki, guiding three birders from Scotland around the different drylands of Lleida and searching for their key species. By the time we reached the Alfés drylands we had already bagged a good number of the most important birds: a small flock of Little Bustards (often difficult to locate after the end of the breeding season), Rollers in double figures, Lesser Kestrels, a few Montagu’s Harriers, a Lesser Grey Shrike, 4 Black Wheatears, a couple of Black-eared Wheatears, and even 2 Black-bellied Sandgrouse (a species which I had put down as “possible, but unlikely”).

But the afternoon lull was having its effect and, despite my local knowledge and efforts, we had not set eyes on either the Pin-tailed Sandgrouse or the Red-necked Nightjar. To my great surprise we had only just managed to find a single flock of Calandra Larks, uncommittingly accompanied by three Short-toed Larks.

It had been different then. I was working, the morning cloud cover had kept us cool until well after midday, and I hadn’t just had a tiff with the wife.

So in comparison to the charged atmosphere at home the prospect of a little hot birding was almost inviting. I told myself I would also have the chance to look for the Red-necked Nightjar and the Pin-tailed Sandgrouse in the places where they should have been two days before, when it really counted. Although the clients who had already missed the birds would not thank me for e-mailing them “You know we dipped on Red-necked Nightjar and Pin-tailed Sandgrouse at Alfés? Well, this afternoon I went back and…..”, I would at least be able to satisfy my own curiosity, and also have some indication of whether or not it was worth coming back with the next birding folk.

I was about to give up on the nightjar when a movement caught my eye and I managed to focus on the bird gliding silently at grass height before landing beside some brushwood. Although I mentally marked the spot where it landed, I had no-one to show it to, so I returned to the car with mixed feelings. “Found it!”, yes, but also “Where were you two days ago?”.

I spent the next couple of hours making short surries from the air-conditioned car, and seeing nothing but the odd Thekla Lark or inactive Roller. Was this really the best way of spending the afternoon? Wouldn’t it have been better to kiss and make up? Sod it! It wasn’t me who was at fault!

The car had picked up a familiar coating of dust and mud by the time I finally found the Pin-tailed Sandgrouse. A single bird stretching its neck and peering at me from above a small field of brittle dry weeds.

Mission accomplished. Well, sort of. Now I had a ten-minute drive back home. Maybe just enough time to plan how best to say I was sorry to my dear wife.